


First Timer

by bigirlgiggles



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anthony Higgins, Fluff, Gay Subtext, If You Squint - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, Newsies - Freeform, Sean Conlon - Freeform, So fluffy it hurts, Tickling, big brother!spot, petnames, race higgins - Freeform, racetrack higgins - Freeform, spot conlon - Freeform, sprace, tickle fight, ticklish!race, ticklish!spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:58:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigirlgiggles/pseuds/bigirlgiggles
Summary: How could someone know how to tickle, without ever having been tickled himself?





	First Timer

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure how to go about this so the ending is a little rushed, but I hope you enjoy!

Race slipped into the lodging house, greeted by a chorus of hellos and playful jeers by his fellow newsboys. The Brooklyn boys were much louder than the Manhattan boys for sure, and it seemed they were even rowdier. The lodging house seemed crammed full of boys, most of them just entering their teenage years if that old.

If he were anyone else, Race would have assumed Spot settled on kidnapping the smaller kids off the street and putting them to work.

But he wasn’t just anybody. He had seen Spot convince a newly orphaned kid to come live at the lodging before, Spot even paid the kid’s rent for the week. He cared more than he let on for each of those kids.

Race took the stairs up to the bedrooms two by two, standing on the landing of the third floor. He pushed the door open to the door on the right, not minding it much. A small blond boy of about maybe ten, if even that old, stood in front of him with dirt smudged across his cheeks.

“State ya business!”He demanded, his voice high pitched and quite a contrast to the demeanor he attempted to put up.

“Oh ho, state my business, ya honor?”Race rose an eyebrow, easily looking over the child’s head to see Spot sprawled across a bed with his cap over his face. “My business is that chump over there,”Race rose his voice so Spot could definitely hear him “he takin’ any visitors today, or is your highness takin’ a beauty nap?God knows he needs it with a mug like the one he’s got.”

“Let him in, Gio. He’s a Manhattan boy.”Spot’s voice was muffled by the clothing over his face, but he moved his legs so there was a bit more room on the bed, wordlessly inviting Race to sit.

“Thank you, your highness.”Race continued to tease, walking over to the bed and leaning against the flimsy frame. The smaller boy lingered at his spot by the door, eyes shifting uncomfortably from Spot to his scribbled on slips of paper on the floor in front of him.

“You hungry Giovanni?”Spot questioned as he placed his hat beside him and sat up on the bed.

If he was anyone else, there would have been a softer tone to his voice.

Not Spot.

He was all business, even while taking care of one of his boys.

Even if he cared more than he let on.

Spot rummaged around in his pocket, flicking the kid a nickel which he skillfully caught. “Go get somethin to eat. Make sure Luca’s eatin too.” The child nodded eagerly and gathered up his paper, shoving it messily into his pocket before rushing out, the door swinging shut with a loud thud behind him.

Race plopped himself down on the bed, lying back against Spot’s legs. “That was awfully nice of you, Seanie.”

“Was I supposed to let him starve?” Spot glanced at Race’s pocket expectantly, eyes moving back up his body to his eyes. “He’s a kid.”

“Just saying, it was a nice gesture.”Race explained, pulling a thick, brand new cigar from his left pocket.”Got a clip and a match?”

Spot handed Race a small pair of old sewing scissors from under the bed above his before he felt around for the thin matchbox tab he had hidden. “Can’t have any of the rascals starting fires, now can we?”

“We can’t!”Race agreed happily, leaning close to let the edge of his cigar was touch the flame. He took a puff and handed it to Spot, who took a much slower smoke than he did. “Thought you’s was comin to me today, what happened, Spotty?”He practically crooned the next part, “You’se didn’t wanna see me, Seanie?”

Spot shrugged, taking a long drag before handing the cigar back to Race. “Got tired, didn’t make it that far.” He nudged Race with his foot.”Cut the shit with the nicknames, princess.”

“Oh, I’m the princess?” Race laughed loudly, waving away the cloud of smoke Spot blew at him. “You’ve got a guard at your door.What is he, Les’ age?”

“Other kids have been pickin on him, I let him room with me for a bit.”Spot waved Race off. “He’s only seven, likes actin tough.”

“I wonder where he’s picked that up from.”

“Ain’t nobody actin. Besides, its better than him getting hurt.”

“You ain’t letting him fight it out?”

“Would you?”

Race nodded slowly before shrugging. “You would fight it out.”

“I wasn’t skin and bones.”The Brooklynite sat up and stretched, flexing his arms in the process. “You and he probably weigh the same, you teach him how to fight back if you want him to so bad.”

“I’m skin and bones?” Race laughed loudly, unable to help a look at Spot’s toned biceps. “You’se five-foot nothin!”

“And rock solid!” Spot sat upright, and Race followed his movement, energy suddenly radiating between the two boys.

“Rock solid?”Race grinned, and Spot thankfully made the first movement. He reached over and put out their cigar on the ash tray beside his bed, sitting up on his knees. “Fair fight?”

A long day of selling, they still had some energy left to burn. Race popped his fingers, already practically jittering with excitement as Spot adjusted himself on the bed. “No scratchin, kitten. That’s unfair.”

“My nails are short!” Race scoffed. They put their hands up and a grin broke out on each of their faces. Spot launched himself at Race and Race braced himself, falling back onto the bed but grabbing Spot’s arms in the process. He pushed up with his legs, managing to knock them off balance and roll them over so he was on top of Spot.

The brunette let out a short laugh, pulling his knees up to his chest and pushing upward, Race huffing and trying to grab his ankle to yank his legs back down. He placed his hand on Spot’s knee to push his leg back down, his movement causing him to slip and his hand landing rather roughly on Spot’s chest.

“Jeeze, tryin’ to punch a hole through me?”Spot grunted, shoving Race’s arm off of his chest to try and wrap his arms around the Manhattan boy’s middle.

“You turned into a roly poly.”Race huffed,”What was I supposed to do?” He kicked at Spot’s legs as Spot pushed him back, practically off of the bed. His hands scrambled for leverage against him and he found his hip, squeezing it with one hand to attempt to get a firm grasp on the other. Spot jerked away, a mix between a gasp and a cough leaving him as he fell backward onto the thin mattress. They both froze for a moment, Race looking down at him with wondering blue eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Haven’t said anythin.”

Spot attempted to pin Race again before Race replaced his hand in his side.

“I said shut up.”Spot was trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

If he was anyone else, Race wouldn’t be able to tell he was cracking as he began to softly wriggle his fingers. Spot’s breath hitched and he ever so slightly bit the inside of his bottom lip, setting his jaw

“Something’ got you scared, hun?”Race rose his eyebrows, unable to help the wide grin across his face.

“Ain’t scared of shit.”Spot’s arm clamped to his side, attempting to stop the movement of Race’s hand.

“Spot, don’t tell me that tickles.”As soon as the last word left his mouth, Spot was struggling under Race, but thanks to practice from wrestling matches with Albert, the taller boy was ready for it. Race squeezed his knees close against either side of Spot’s hips and pinned his hands under his knees, forcing Spot immobile.

Spot, swearing and huffing the entire time he squirmed, glared heatedly up at Race from on his back.”You’se a dead man, Anthony.”

If he was anyone else, Race was sure he would be.

“Is this really a situation appropriate for my full name,”His blue eyes looked carefully over Spot’s upper-body, deciding where exactly to start his investigation into what makes the so-called king of Brooklyn squirm.” when you’se the one on your back?”

Blue eyes met brown and Spot silently dared him.

Naturally, Race accepted. His fingers pinched lightly up and down Spot’s sides and Spot jerked away from his touch, chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to keep a straight face. “You ticklish, Spot?”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s not a denial."Race walked his fingers up his sides to lightly poke over his ribs, taking care to scratch at the spaces between them. Spot’s eyes squeezed shut and honest-to-god giggles slipped from his lips. Race scratched his fingers down his ribs, crooning as he did so. "You'se real ticklish, Spot. How come you didn’t tell nobody?”

“Shuhut up!"Spot’s shoulders scrunched up the best they could when Race’s hand traveled upward to flutter his fingers against his neck."Gehehet off, Race!”

“Not done with ya yet!"Race pushed Spot’s shirt up to expose the Brooklynite’s toned stomach and grinned as Spot’s squirming intensified slightly. "Oh, don’t tell me I’ve found a good spot!” Using his nails and starting just under his ribs, Race softly scratched to just above the waistband of his pants. Spot threw his head back as he howled with laughter, his stomach twitching as Race scribbled over his belly button and back up.

“You know, Seanie,"Race commented as if Spot would have the chance to fully reply. "You'se real ticklish. Tough guy like you, and you’re losin’ a tickle fight? Nobody would believe it!The King of Brooklyn, and he can’t even fight a little bit of tickling!"He reached behind him and scribbled over the space behind his knee, a place he knew to be rather sensitive on himself. Spot’s legs kicked out and he snorted through his laughter, making Race laugh along loudly with him. "Don’t mind me, I’m just checkin to make sure. I can’t miss a spot!”

Spot attempted to stutter out an insult, a blush rising to his already somewhat red face as Race continued his torment along his friend’s ticklish skin.

“How’s about this?"Race paused his onslaught for a moment, instead settling for lightly poking and prodding Spot’s middle as he twitched beneath him. "I’ll stop, but on two conditions.”

“W-what."Spot panted, looking up at him with a red face, his curly hair messy and sticking up in several places. He was far less intimidating after being tickled.

"You tell me where you’re real ticklish, and I stop.” Race offered, continuing despite Spot’s noise of protest. “And you don’t beat the hell out of me when I get up.”

Spot stayed quiet, thinking over his choices. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? I think it’s a pretty sweet deal-”

“I don’t know where I’m ticklish."Spot clarified, not meeting Race’s curious blue eyes. It was an awkward but innocent confession, but Race still furrowed his eyebrows."Didn’t know I was.Honest.”

“Aw, then I guess we have lost time to make up for."Race smiled down at Spot, giving him a chance to protest before holding his fingers over Spot’s stomach. He started wiggling his fingers and crooning "tickle tickle tickle” before his hands made contact. He moved his legs, freeing Spot’s hands so he could protect himself from Race’s ticklish torture if he really wanted to. From the way Spot’s arms crossed over his ribs instead of blocking his stomach, Race noted that he obviously didn’t mind the tickling even if he acted so.

He was surprised when Spot’s hands shot up from their place over his torso to latch onto Race’s sides, giving him a few squeezes. Race’s body automatically jerked away and he fell backward to land on Spot’s legs, already shouting “no, no, no!” as he began to laugh and shriek.

Spot’s quick and knowing movements made Race think he had definitely tickled someone to tears before, and he felt for whoever had ever fallen victim to Spot’s tickle attacks, but he could tell in the way Spot was looking down at him with an almost goofy smile and a glimmer of mischief in his eye that he didn’t mind Race’s little attack as long as he could have revenge afterward.


End file.
